


Caution: Handle With Care

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Food Poisoning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: There are so many things John could be doing instead of taking care of him.Harold gets sick, and is surprised when John doesn't leave his side.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Caution: Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

> For a [Tumblr prompt meme prompt](https://argylepiratewd.tumblr.com/post/631501704806957056/whumpbox-gentle-things-send-a-number-get-a). An anon requested _13: patting their face with a damp washcloth_.

The first press of the cool cloth against his forehead feels like heaven, and Harold doesn't even bother to stifle his sigh or keep his eyes open. It's the first thing that's felt good in hours, ever since his breakfast turned on him so suddenly and violently he feared the less-mundane sort of poisoning was to blame. His insides are a riot of sensations, all of them unpleasant, and his head hurts nearly as much as his stomach, but this? It is incredible.

And so is John, who helped him through the worst of his revolting symptoms without flinching, until the various medications he took kicked in and he finally felt stable enough to lie down on the safehouse bed. Somehow, John still hasn't tired of him and left his sickly side. Instead, John sat down carefully beside him, barely jostling him, saying, "Let's see if I can get you feeling a little better," and showed him the wet washcloth.

John moves the cloth gently over Harold's overheated face, cleaning away nasty fever sweat and leaving a refreshing chill in its place. Harold drifts, cradling his unsettled midsection, focusing on the soothing touch of the cloth and John's kindness. There are so many things John could be doing instead of taking care of him. Shaw wrapped up their latest number hours ago. John is free to go out and find entertainment. But he stays, moving the damp cloth in slow, delicate strokes over Harold's face without pausing, spreading the comforting coolness everywhere.

"You're too good to me," Harold says, his voice raspy, his throat raw. A cup of tea would be welcome right about now, but he can do without—especially if it means keeping John nearby. "Thank you, my love."

John pauses, and, for a moment, a knot of worry takes hold of Harold's chest. Was he wrong to acknowledge it, to express his gratitude, to use the endearment? Even in their unconventional relationship, is it too soon to use the word "love," to call John his love? Then, warm lips brush his cool temple, and John says, "You're welcome," smiling against his skin.

Harold lets out another soft, pleased sigh, and he smiles as well and relaxes into the mattress.


End file.
